


To the Brim

by roebling



Series: Mokbang VJ Himchan [2]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Belching, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Established Relationship, Feedism, Food Kink, Food Porn, M/M, Mokbang, Name-Calling, Overeating, Sloppy Eating, Stuffing, Weight Gain, fat admiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Himchan hasn't filmed a video in a while. When Pizza Hut has a special offer, he decides it's an opportunity he can't pass up, but this time he might have bitten off more than he can chew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Brim

**Author's Note:**

> MORE MOKBANG VJ HIMCHAN!! 
> 
>  
> 
> **WARNINGS: This is 100% eating/stuffing/belly kink porn, with a side of belching, messy eating, and name calling. IF YOU AREN'T INTO THESE THINGS PLEASE DON'T READ AND LEAVE NEGATIVE FEEDBACK :) If you are triggered by things related to weight, eating, or body image please please please proceed with caution. This is fetish fiction, and so some of these things are deliberately not treated with the care and detail they deserve. If you have any questions about the content please let me know.**
> 
>  
> 
> This is entirely and obviously fiction and isn't intended as any kind of judgement whatsoever on the people portrayed. Also, this is unbeta-ed because I couldn't bring myself to make anyone read it for me LOL /o\
> 
> Mokbang (먹방) is a Korean internet trend where people take videos of themselves eating for their legions of fans. Many 먹방 videos are hosted on Korean sites, but a search on YouTube still turns up some good examples of the genre :)

Himchan settles back into his chair. He makes a face at his computer -- moonfaced, his image grimaces back. This is not a flattering angle. Grunting, he leans forward and adjusts the webcam.

"Ah," he says. "There we go." 

At this point, he has this all down to a science. A little extra attention to detail is what sets the amateurs apart from the pros, and in the world of mokbang, Himchan is not just a pro -- he's the best. He has the revenue to prove it. 

"Hello, everyone. Gomgomi here. I've missed you all so much. Life has been unreasonably distracting, but when I saw this, I knew I had to film a video." 

He holds up a glossy pamphlet -- Pizza Hut's new special offer right now is two pizzas, baked pasta, cheesy potatoes, and some rather unappealing looking little croquettes. It's all served in an elaborate cardboard tower, a massive box full of processed cheese and dough. Himchan has always been a sucker for clever packaging. 

"I couldn't choose between the barbeque chicken rich gold pizza and the chicken king," he says. "And the topping king was practically named after me." He grins. "So I ordered two triple boxes. A sextuple box?" He rubs a hand over his belly. "Anyway, I'm _famished_. If these pizzas don't get here soon, I'm going to have to have a snack." 

He sighs. "You probably wonder where I've been lately," he says. "I could lie, but I'm going to be honest. Gomgomi has been _dating_." He leans back, smiling widely. "That's right. I met someone. I've been swept up in a whirlwind romance. I never knew how much time dating took before. There are breakfasts in bed, lunch dates, romantic dinners, strolling along the Han river enjoying an ice cream ..." He sighs, dreamily. "It's been _amazing_." 

Just then someone buzzes his door. Himchan levers himself up, bracing himself on the table. It's not a huge apartment. He scoots sideways, and out of the frame of the camera. There are indistinct noises. The door opens. A low murmur of voices. The door slams shut again. Himchan shuffles back into frame, carrying two Pizza Hut Triple Boxes. 

"Here we are," he says, setting them down on the counter top. "Heavy. And ... ahh, they smell good. The delicious aroma of processed cheese." 

He settles back in his chair. This is familiar. All he needs to do now is talk and eat, and he's always been good at both of those things. He pulls open the first triple box. The pizzas are hot still. The crust of the rich gold pizza is an unnatural yellow. It's not unappetizing though. 

"Presliced," he says, pulling out two pieces of pizza. The melty cheese stretches. Himchan takes a big bite. 

"Good," he says. "This is the barbeque chicken rich gold pizza. I'm sure you've all seen the ads." He takes another bite, eyes closed. He chews slowly, savoring. He plays it up for the camera a little, of course. The fans like that. "If you haven’t seen, there's a ring of sweet potato mousse inside the crust." He takes another slice from the box. "Pizza and potatoes. Genius." 

Himchan has never heard of too much of a good thing. He works through the slices methodically. The sweet earthy flavor of the sweet potato mousse tiggers a memory, and he recounts a Thanksgiving meal he had while visiting family friends in New York City, and all the strange, delicious food they’d served. ("Sweet potatoes covered in _marshmallows and sugar_!") The fans like it when he talks about himself, and while it might seem a little silly to talk about food while eating, he can't help himself. Himchan _loves_ food. He loves cooking and he loves sharing a good meal with family and friends. He loves the way food tastes: the intensity and endless variety of flavor. Most of all, he loves eating. He loves eating and eating and eating until he’s so full he can’t fit in another bite. 

He’s nowhere close to that yet, of course. It takes a lot to fill him up. 

The rich gold pizza is no more. Himchan brushes some crumbs from his shirt. There’s a few spots of sauce that might stain, but now’s not the time to worry about things like that. 

"Next up," he says. "Grilled Shrimp." He slides the second pizza a bit closer. 

In the background, a door opens and closes with a muted bang. Himchan looks over, smiles, and then turns back to the camera. He takes a big bite of the Grilled Shrimp pizza. 

"This one is pretty greasy," he says. "I feel like I'm eating an oil slick." He into the desk drawer, and pulls out a bottle of antacids. Shaking one out, he says, "Preventative measures." 

Looking over his shoulder, he calls, "Can you bring me a soda?" 

Someone off screen responds, muted. Himchan says thanks as he reaches for liter bottle of Pepsi. It opens with a cold exhalation. He takes a long drink. When he's done, he puts his hand on his belly and he belches. Pepsi is the bubbliest soda. That’s why it’s his favorite. 

He picks up another slice. It gleams greasily. "Better just get this done with." He sandwiches two slices of pizza together, and takes a big bite. "I'm enduring this for all of you," he says, looking right in the camera and smiling. (That’s another schtick the audience likes: Himchan is _suffering_ through all of this for their sake. If only they knew how much _he_ liked that idea.) He catches sight of himself onscreen. There's a bit of cheese sauce on his lower lip. He licks it off, with a flash of pink tongue. 

Before he started his own mokbang broadcast, when he'd been but a novice, watching other channels in horror and fascination, Himchan had been mystified as to the appeal. He knew why _he_ liked the idea of being a mokbang VJ: to eat as much as you could hold and to get paid for it sounded like a dream. And not only a dream, but a lucrative business venture for which Himchan was uniquely qualified.

Hadn't his mother always told him that he had _quite_ an appetite, after all? 

But he had wondered, back then, what the viewers got out of it. He’s figured it all out of course, and there’s not just one reason why people watch mokbang broadcasts. Some like the novelty of it, of course. Others want the illusion of sharing a good meal with someone, even as they spoon down cheap instant noodles while sitting on their couch. Others just like _food_ , and there are channels that focus on the gourmand element of mokbang, with elaborate dishes and expensive ingredients. 

A rare few though enjoy it in the same way that Himchan does. It's not _just_ the pleasure of getting to eat as much as he wants. That's part of it, but when he's on his way to well and truly stuffed, when his belly is round and bulging, when he can almost feel the skin stretching tight, there's an even sweeter pleasure beneath the heavy way-too-full pain. 

It turns him on. He had been startled the first time he realized that. And there are other people, thankfully, who get just as turned on watching Himchan stuff his face. 

It's a funny kind of symbiosis. 

He laughs. 

"It's a funny world," he says, grunting as he sits up in the chair. The grilled shrimp pizza has been reduced just a few crusts, and he's spearing a few of the cheesy bacon potatoes with his fork. They’re so salty and the cheese tastes like it came out of a can. Disgusting, but wonderful. 

"When I was a kid I used to go to the convenience store after school and buy snacks," he says. "My mom was always nagging me about eating too much, so I would go to this empty lot around the corner from my house and scarf it all down. Little did she know I was practicing for the career that would one day bring me so much fame and recognition." He grins, and pops one more cheese croquet into his mouth. 

The first triple box is empty now, and Himchan's belly is very full. It's obvious now under his white button-up. It's amazing how much food he can pack into his belly. Amazing how it stretches and stretches to hold more and more until it looks like he's smuggling a bowling ball under his shirt. It's no bowling ball though. It's all his belly, and so full and big now that the buttons on his shirt are starting to pull tight. 

"Uff," he says, "Either I'm out of practice or this more food than I thought it was going to be." He reaches for the third pizza. It’s true they’re just mediums, but still. _Three pizzas_. 

He concentrates on the motions of eating now. That's how it gets, as he gets more full. He falls down into the calm repetitive motion of it: bite, chew, swallow, repeat. There’s something almost meditative about the rhythm. With his free hand his rubs his belly, soothing the building ache and making a little extra space. He has the air running in the apartment, but he's hot anyway. Sweat on his brow and under his arms. He breathes in heavily through his nose. The struggle is what makes it feel so _good_.

"Problem with pizza," he says, slowly, mouth full, "is that there's too much bread." He swallows, takes another bite. "Ugh. I feel like I've eaten a cinder block." He looks up, past the camera, and smirks. "Not giving up though." 

The topping king pizza can't stand in the force of Himchan's indomitable appetite. There are just crumbs left when Himchan drops the box onto the floor. He pulls the last pizza over. 

"Four pizzas," he says. "I think that's my record. I don't think I've ever eaten this much in one go before." He smiles at the camera. "You're witnessing history here, my friends." 

He takes another long drink of Pepsi. The soda was a bad choice, of course, but this day has been all about bad choices. He can feel it bubbling and fizzing as it goes down. He burps, and then burps again. He should have had water, but that wouldn’t have been any fun. 

The last pizza is a bacon potato, which seems kind of cruel considering he's already downed a pan of bacon potatoes and he's got another side left to go. Himchan likes a bit more variety, normally. Maybe he really is out of practice. 

"Okay," he says. "Let's do this." 

His stomach aches now. He's so full. There's no reason for him to keep eating, except that it tastes so good and he doesn't want to stop. He wants to keep eating and eating and eating until there's not even a crumb left and he's packed his gut as full of food as he possibly can. 

He's getting pretty close to that. The buttons on his shirt really are straining, and he realizes with a thrill of pleasure that if he does manage to finish this damn pizza they might actually _pop_.

"Oh shit," Himchan says. He relaxes and lets his belly surge forward further, and the fabric is pulled totally taut. The shirt’s a little too small, but then most of Himchan's clothes are a little too small these days. 

"I've never actually popped a button before," Himchan says.

"That's not the only thing that's gonna pop," someone says off screen, amused, voice dark. 

Himchan looks up, annoyed. "Yongguk, you're ruining my video," he says, peeved. "I'm going to have to edit that out." He frowns. “And did you just make a dick joke?" 

Yongguk shrugs, but Himchan can see him blushing. It's so cute how bashful he gets about all of this still. And it's not like he's wrong. Himchan is turned on. There's something delicious about the way his gut aches, and he can feel little sparks of pleasure as he trails his fingers gently over the taut round globe of his belly. 

He takes a bite of pizza. This is getting hard. The desk is a mess of crumbs and napkins. He drains the liter bottle of soda. 

"Go make yourself useful," he tells Yongguk, who is leaning against the far wall and watching him with dark, amused eyes. "Get me more soda." 

"Yes sir," Yongguk says, and oh, that's something they haven't ever explored, but Himchan could get used to it … But there’s no time for that now. He's got carbs to eat. The taste of the pizza is cloying so he moves onto the pasta temporarily. Maybe it's a mistake. The pizza is is main goal after all, and these sides are just a distraction. But food is food, and the pasta is covered in a rich creamy sauce that _has_ to be mostly cream. Himchan is a fan. Maybe next time he'll just get an order of this stuff. Well. An order or two. Or three. 

Yongguk brings him the soda. Himchan opens the bottle and chugs, eyes closed. It cleanses the palette, but it also makes him feel like he's going to _pop_. He takes another bite of pizza, then another. Six slices left to go. This one has cheese baked into the crust, and a garlic dipping sauce that seems like it's mostly melted butter. Some of that sauce dribbles down Himchan's chin onto his white shirt. 

Yongguk puts a hand on Himchan's belly. Startled, Himchan looks up. Yongguk is crouching at the side of his chair, hand flat against the big curve of Himchan's belly. It's much too big to fit into one hand, even Yongguk's hand, which are long-fingered and strong, with manicured nails. 

"It really looks like it might rip," Yongguk says, hushed. "I didn't think you could eat that much. You look _enormous_." 

Himchan snorts. "Shows what you know," he says. "You should know better than to doubt how much I can eat." He takes another bite, and another, and another, barely pausing to chew, packing in as much pizza as he can. Yongguk's fingers move steadily and smoothly, soothing away a little of the ache. Five pieces left, then four.

"Fuck," Himchan says. "I don't think I can finish." 

"Yes you can," Yongguk says. "You're Gomgomi. You're not going to let a little pizza defeat you, right?" 

Himchan moans a vague assent. This is the closest he's ever come to feeling actually unwell, and with a momentary jolt of fear he wonders exactly how much a human stomach can hold ... He closes his eyes and swallows. 

"You know you want to keep eating," Yongguk says. His voice is low and rough. "You're way past the point of full, but you just want more, don't you?" 

Himchan nods, and takes a bite. 

"You're so full," Yongguk says. "You've eaten so much you're almost bursting out of your clothes. Just a little more, and that shirt won't stand a chance. Just cloth and thread. That flimsy thing can't control your big piggy gut." 

Fuck. Himchan is down to the last two slices, and it's true. He's never been this full in his entire life. 

"Feed me," he says. "I can't ... Just ... make me finish." 

Yongguk holds a slice up to his lips. The grease smears against his lips before he opens his mouth. It's a little easier like this. Himchan doesn't have to think about anything except eating, doesn't have to move a muscle other than to chew and swallow, chew and swallow. Bite by bite, he finishes the slice. One more to go. Just one more. 

"You're doing really well," Yongguk says. "You have room for one more slice. Just one more little slice of pizza. That's not going to stop you, is it?" 

No, it's not. Himchan isn't going to let one slice of pizza stand in his way. He presses both hands into his belly as Yongguk feeds him the final slice. He chews and chews and chews and it's a shock when he realizes there's no more and Yongguk is staring down at him with a big smile on his face.

"All gone," he says. "You did it." His expression turns grave. "How do you feel? Are you okay?" 

"Fuck," Himchan says, breathless and aching and feeling like his entire body is centered on the huge heavy pressure in his stomach. It feels like he's swallowed a _planet_ , that's how big and heavy he feels. "Can't believe it." 

"Can't believe this held on," Yongguk says, patting Himchan's oh-so-tight belly. "Those buttons are made of stronger stuff than they look." 

Himchan doesn't know why, but suddenly, he wants to pop the button off his shirt more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. More than pizza. More than Yongguk. He's so big, huge really, and no cheap shirt is going to withstand the weight and size of his gut. 

He takes a long, long drink of soda. His stomach clenches, cramping and angry and so so full, and he burps again. The buttons on his shirt strain. He takes a deep, deep breath, as deep as he can. He can see the pale skin of his stomach where the shirt gaps. He grunts, and breathes in one more time and ... Ping! Ping! 

The two buttons across the very roundest part of his stomach shoot off.

"Fuck," says Himchan. Panting, he relaxes. His belly rolls forward, bulging through the gap in the fabric, looking bigger than ever.

"Watch where you point that thing," Yongguk says, grinning. "I could have lost an eye." 

"Would have served you right," Himchan mumbles, breathless and groaning. "You ruined my video." 

Yongguk shrugs. "You can edit it out." He drags his fingers across the bare skin of Himchan's belly. "This is in the way," he says, fingering the ruined shirt. He starts to undo the other buttons.

"You ruined my video," Himchan says, although to be honest he's way too full and hot and tired to be properly indignant.

Yongguk's got the shirt all the way unbuttoned. Himchan's belly looks so massive, big and pale except where it's streaked with pink stretchmarks around his deep navel. 

He's been doing a lot of eating lately, if not quite on this scale. 

"Sorry," Yongguk says. "Couldn't help myself." His delicate hands move smoothly and firmly over Himchan's belly. 

"That feels so good," Himchan says. His eye are half closed. His desk chair isn't comfortable but he honestly isn't sure he can move right now. "Fuck. Can't believe you ruined the video." 

"I'm making it up to you with a belly rub," Yongguk says. "Feels good, doesn't it?" 

And it does. Himchan's stomach grumbles and groans, way too full. Stupid asshole Yongguk. He's always right. But what's Himchan going to post now? 

Yongguk grins. "Sounds like you're just going to have to try again. Next time you can try for six pizzas." 

Six pizzas. Fuck. Himchan can't even imagine that. How round he'd be. How full. How heavy and tight and full his belly would feel. 

"Himchan? I was just kidding." Yongguk sounds alarmed. "I don't think you should really try to eat six pizzas. I ..." 

"Relax," Himchan says . "Can't think about eating anything right now," he lies. He puts his hands over Yongguk's. "That feels really good. Keep doing that." 

But he's not going to give up on the idea that easily. Six pizzas? That's a lot, yeah, but so what? Himchan likes to have goals.


End file.
